


We Were Made to Fly

by acrisione



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Death Eaters, First War with Voldemort, Friendship, Gen, MWPP Era, Teenagers, Vignette
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 07:50:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1297132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acrisione/pseuds/acrisione
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vignettes set during the Marauders Era, mostly on the Slytherins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sponsor

The idea gnawed at him incessantly.  It poked at his brain when he tried to sleep, it whispered in his ear during classes and danced in front of his eyes when he ate.  Distracting himself with textbooks did not work, nor potions, nor chatter, nor anything else.  The only thing he could think of was saying yes.

But doubts swirled.  Severus, by no stretch of the imagination, wanted to go to prison.  And surely Dumbledore would know a Death Eater walked the halls of his precious school?  Being a Death Eater was not yet illegal, but Severus had no doubts about where he would end up if found out.  And what if he was not good enough for the Dark Lord?  He was certainly good enough for his peers, good enough for his parents and good enough for Lucius Malfoy.  But the Death Eaters were on a whole different level.  Could he fly and fight with the best?  Was he really ready to?

Severus knew he was no idiot.  Idiots did not go from poor half-blood nobody to poor half-blood friend of the Malfoys.  Lucius would not want to risk his reputation with the Dark Lord by bringing in someone not yet ready, and the Dark Lord himself probably had some sort of training program.  Severus also knew that he would end up there no matter what, sometime.  It might as well be on his own terms.

Lately things had not been on his terms, and Severus very much wanted to rectify that.  The loss of Lily was a knife through his heart, the final shot to any chance he had of seeing the Light.  His friends had come in on him closer than ever, whether they were taking advantage of Lily’s absence or he was, Severus did not know.  Joining the Death Eaters would give him the sense of control he desperately needed.  And, also, Lily would certainly come back to him, attracted by his prowess and the lengths he was going to to cleanse their world.

So it therefore was no surprise to Lucius Malfoy when one evening, as he was preparing for dinner, a tawny owl swooped through his bedroom window and deposited a hastily written note on the vanity.  Narcissa had gotten to it first and said aloud:  “Ready.” 

“You will not speak of this, please, Narcissa,” Lucius had responded evenly.  Inside, he was on fire.  _Yes_!, his brain exclaimed.  Bringing in top talent to the Dark Lord would most certainly increase his favour.

She smiled at her husband.  “I am no fool, Lucius.”

Strolling to her, Lucius grinned in return.  “Oh, I know.”  He took the note in two thin fingers and, with a thought, made it disappear.  “Have dinner waiting for me when I come back.”  Where he was going was clear, but when he was to be home was not.

Narcissa’s smile had faded.  “Do be safe.”

Lucius gave her a gentle kiss.  “Don’t worry, love.”

Two days later, as Severus settled down for one his last Hogwarts’ breakfasts of the term, an owl dropped a letter on his plate.  In Lucius’s looping scrawl it read:  _As are we_.


	2. 79 Light Years

Regulus was trying to be stoic, but he was not fooling anyone.  Barty had spotted it first, as the empathic boy was wont to do.  Evan had tried giving him chocolates, and Boris Wilkes had tried to cheer the younger boy up with jokes.  Nothing, though, could make him smile.

The question: _What’s wrong_? was on everyone’s lips but all the assembled teenagers knew what was ailing Regulus.  That previous summer, at an early morning get-together with the extended family, Sirius had thrown a fit, affronted at some question, and stormed out.  He had not returned and Walburga had not waited, burning his portrait from the Tree.  As Sirius had settled down to life at James Potter’s house, Regulus had to handle the tough responsibility of being heir.

He had always been soft-hearted, Regulus, and Orion was glad to have an older son.  Regulus was not strong enough, or cunning enough, to lead a family like the Blacks.  And now he had to.  That weight was on his shoulders and Regulus was not sure how he was supposed to cope.  It hadn’t seemed real, not until Sirius had walked by their compartment, chortling with his friends.

“I just want to do well,” said Regulus finally.  “I want to carry on the name and the prestige, but I was not raised to be that person.  I don’t know the first thing about it.  Father had taught Sirius all those ins-and-outs, not me.”

Evan untangled himself from Boris and settled down next to Regulus, wrapping an arm around the smaller boy.  “If Oz can lead his, than what do you have to worry about?”

Oz Avery rolled his eyes.  “I’m not that weak,” he protested.  “I even _saw_ one of Father’s girls last summer.”

“Ooooh!  Did you?” Steven Mulciber mocked, throwing his legs over Severus’s lap.  “How mature.”

Regulus leaned into Evan.  “Am I being a baby?”

“No,” Severus said, finally speaking.  “All your life you have been told that you are not good enough to lead.  Now that are being forced to, you doubt yourself.  What about that is shameful?”  He threw Steven’s legs off him.

“Damn Severus,” Barty laughed, “I didn’t know you had such kindness in you!”

Severus sent him a glare.  “I’m as kind as Oz is strong.”

“I just told everyone I got laid over the summer!” Oz protested, crushing his cauldron cake in his anger.

“You had to pay her!” Boris shouted.  “You had to pay her!”

Oz shook his head.  “No, no, no I didn’t!  She’s own of Father’s girls and I can have them for free.”  He pointed at Regulus.  “You ought to see one, it’ll cheer you up.”

Regulus frowned.  “I don’t need a disease to compound all the awful that is befalling me.”

“But hey,” added Evan suddenly, tightening his hand on Regulus’s slender shoulder.  “You should be happy.  What I wouldn’t do to be the heir!  But I’ve got two older brothers so that will never happen, but you get to!  I’m jealous.  And Evan Rosier doesn’t get jealous.”

“… I guess,” Regulus relented.  His lips finally twitched into a smile.  “I guess it is pretty nice.”

Barty patted him on the back.  “It sure is!”

“Wouldn’t you have been anyway, though?” Severus inquired, his attention on a bag of Bertie’s beans.  “How could Orion allow a blood traitor to lead the family?  By now he had to know your brother isn’t going to see the light.  If he hadn’t thrown a fit you would probably still be in this position, just maybe a year from now or something.”  He sampled a bean and grimaced.  Prompted by Oz, he explained:  “Soap.”

Steven waved a hand dismissively.  “Good for you.”

Regulus’s lips broke open and he laughed.  At his joyful sounds, the entire carriage broke into laughter.  “Be nice!” Regulus struggled between breaths.  “Severus was trying to make me feel better.”

“And he’s right,” Barty choked.  “It would of happened anyway.”

“It’s not even funny,” Severus scowled.  “The real pig here is Steven, but _he_ makes the soap jokes.”

Regulus held up his slender hands and slowly everyone’s laughter subsided.  “I’m sorry for laughing, Severus, but you can be pretty vulgar.”  As Severus went to retort he jerked, shaking his hands violently.  “No, stop, listen!  You’re right.  I never let myself think that way, but you’re right.  I would have had to do it anyway.  And, _fuck_ , I’m a Black.  If scum like Potter and Longbottom can do the job, than you bet your arse I can.”

“That’s the spirit!” Evan cheered.  “You can’t spend all this time moping.”

Regulus settled into his seat as Evan returned to Boris.  “I’m not going to be sad about it.  That’s like letting Sirius win.  And letting Sirius win is letting the blood traitors win, and I’m not going to do that.”

At the sounds of his friends’ encouragement, Regulus found solace in his new future.


	3. Hosiery

On a particularly chilly mid-November morning, Severus found himself sitting at one of the tables in the common room, finishing up on his neglected Potions homework.  As he adjusted his scarf and got some new ink on his quill, he noticed the sound of shifting fabric and agitated breathing.  Looking up, he spotted the new arrival.  “What is it, Evan?”

Evan Rosier did not respond.  Instead, he rutted through his school bag until he pulled out his own parchment, adorned only with his name and the assignments title.  “Since you want to be a rotter, I am going to allow you to repay me.”

Frowning, Severus examined his yearmate closely.  Evan’s usually glittery blue eyes were dim, and his blond hair lacked its usual bounce.  “I suppose Slughorn spoke to you?”  It was the only explanation.  Two nights previous they had gone out to stretch their legs – send illicit letters to people no good person sent letters to – and been caught by McGonagall.  A week before it had been Flitwick on the prowl.  A week and a half before it was the Defense professor, Sienkiewicz, who had heard them creeping.  After the third offense Slughorn’s patience had worn out and he had swung the hammer of discipline down on the two teenagers.

“We were in there together, Severus.  He sent me out so he could speak with your privately, and then he spoke to me.  Of course he talked to me; yelled at me really, but that’s not the point.  The point is I got hit the face with spittle because you are too stupid to keep your mouth shut around McGonagall’s office.  And my other point is apparently ‘Slytherin cannot afford to lose so many house points’ and ‘if you will not listen to words your time can speak for you’.”  Evan ducked his head and smiled.  “What is done is done, as they say.  I only wish for you to repay your debt to me.  I have two days of detention, you know.  I wanted to watch Steven match up against Potter next Saturday, but instead I have to sort files.”

Severus put down his quill and dragged Evan’s parchment towards himself.  “He gave you two days?  I only have one.”

Evan’s eyes widened and he startled backwards, almost falling off the bench.  “What do you mean?  Why would you get one and I two?  Slughorn does not even like you!”

Shrugging, Severus made a tick mark fifteen inches down the parchment.  “I cannot explain it.  Slughorn told me that he was disappointed, tired and had had enough of my ‘petulant’ attitude and behavior.  He said one day ought to do the trick.  Perhaps he blames you more?  Or maybe later he will tell me that I’ve another day.”  Evan took back the parchment and frowned.

“This sucks and that sucks and my week has really sucked!” Evan complained.  “Since when do I get pushed into second rank?  My father is the head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

Dipping his head in acknowledgement, Severus passed his Potions text across the table.  “I would talk to him if you’re so upset.”

“And let him know?  No thank you!”  Evan traced one thin finger down the left margin and whimpered.  “I cannot read your scribbles.”

“I do not scribble.”  Severus scowled.  “Look, see paragraph three?  It starts there and goes on for two pages.  Then you can reference a couple of different potions, like the Scintillation Solution and the Alihotsy Draught.”

Evan nodded and scrawled notes of a spare corner of his graded Herbology essay.  “On what pages are those?”

“243 and 12.  But try to find something else also.  I do not need our papers looking the same.”

Evan grinned good-naturedly.  “We are in enough trouble as it is!  So, how potions affect the mind and some that do, right?  Am I missing anything?”

“Well,” Severus said, after some thought, “I think it best to focus on how the ingredients factor into the effects on the brain, how it all comes together, but I think that would be too advanced for anyone else.”  At Evan’s indignant snort Severus added, “It’s not an attack, it’s a fact.  But if I were you I would go on about the history of it all, how potions changed to be more and more precise and potent.  Drop some names along the way and you will be fine.”

Nodding quickly, Evan jotted it all down.  “Thank you for helping me.  I could do Potions without you, but my marks would not be as high.”

“Speaking of your marks, do you think Slughorn is going to write home?  It doesn’t affect me, but I am sure you don’t want your father knowing what you get into.”

Evan tensed.  “Good god, I hope he doesn’t say anything!  I get a slight pass, being the third son, but Father still has very high expectations for me!  You know what he did when I got into that little fight.”  After a moment he grumbled, “… didn’t even listen.  Tried to tell him we were defending a friend but no…”

“So we’re okay again, then, right?” Severus inquired.  His eyes flitted down his essay, checking for grammatical errors.

The other boy laughed.  “Yes, I suppose we are.  I was never truly angry with you, you know, Severus.  More peeved at Slughorn than all else.  It is not like you could have sold me out for a reprieve.  And we both did it.  Honestly – and please don’t get offended – I think that Slughorn just have higher expectations for me than he does for you and that’s why I got an extra day.  Now that I think about it, _you_ should be the one offended, not me.”

“That’s great,” Severus snapped, and he tugged back his textbook.

“Hey!” Evan protested.  “I told you not to get offended.”

Severus rolled his eyes but allowed his friend to have back at his book. 

“Do you think Slughorn would be upset if I took from your notes and not the text?  Since some of these are new facts of your creation and not shared, do you think he would mark something wrong that is really right?”  Evan bit his lip.  “I do not want a bad grade.”

“I use my own information all the time.  My marks are always exemplary.”

“Okay, okay.”  Evan nodded rapidly.  “Can you go get a cuppa for me?  I really want to get going on this, now that I’ve a plan and all.”

Severus scowled.  “I am not your house-elf.  Hey!  I know you know:  do not tell me.  If you want something to drink, summon up one of Daddy’s elves.”

“Fine, I will!  And I won’t get anything for you!”  Evan snapped his fingers and instantly before them appeared an old, stopped elf, clad in nothing but what appeared to be an old sack.  “Get me a cuppa, Kitly, and be quick about it!”

The elf bowed low, its ears dragging across the freezing stone.  “Yes, master, right away master.”  It was gone almost as fast as it came.  Both boys waited in suspended animation for the elf to reappear.  Once the tea cup was on the table, Evan waved his hand dismissively and the elf vanished with a loud _pop_.

“I’m under the impression that you are finished with that?”  Evan took a sip of his tea.

Severus gave the piece a thorough glance.  “There about,” he concluded.

Evan’s face broke into a large grin.  “That’s great!  Oz was worrying – yes, I know!  Oz worrying! – about something.  Could you go check on him?”

“Did he ask you to ask me?”  Severus sighed and began tucking away his things.  In an ideal world he would devote more time to his essay, but he did not even want to be working on it in the first place.

Shrugging, Evan said:  “Yes and no.  You know how he is.”  After another sip of tea he waved one hand hurriedly.  “Run along now.  He was quite the mess when I left.”

“Why didn’t you tell me when you got here?”  Severus stood and brought the worn strapped of his messenger bag over his bony shoulder.

Evan smiled mischievously.  “I wanted to speak with you.” 

Apparently finished with the conversation, he lowered his head over his homework. 

In short time, Severus found himself in the dormitory he shared with four other boys.  It was devoid of any life but him, except for Oz Avery, who, at this point, could hardly be considered a true human form.   Curled on the floor in front of the door to the loo, Oz had his hands in his hair and his head on his knees.  The sound of his gentle sobs was the only thing to be heard.

“Oz?”  Severus asked after a pause.  Why was he being asked to deal with him?  Severus did not know the first thing about dealing with anyone, let alone those in distress.

The other boy sat up rapidly, wiping away at his tears.  “Yeah  -- oh, hey, how are you?”

Severus made a face he thought looked concerned but to Oz appeared like a mixture of pain and condescension.  “Evan asked me to see you?”

“I thought you had abandoned me,” Oz said quietly.  “It’s nice to know I was wrong.  I usually am wrong, though, so I guess it’s not so nice.”  He struggled to stand, but eventually made it up and onto his bed.

The closest bed to Severus and Oz was Boris Wilkes’s and Severus wasted no time in planting himself on it.  “Tell me your problem.”

Oz shrugged.  “My father – and you can’t tell anyone this Severus. No!  I mean it.  I’d die in Azkaban.  I would die – told me that if I don’t shape up he won’t only not sponsor me for the Death Eaters but I also won’t inherit anything.”

Severus rolled his eyes.  “You’re the only boy!”

“That’s what I said!”  Oz exclaimed, smiling at the little bit of solidarity.  “But you wanna know what he said?  He said:  ‘I don’t care.  You think I can’t have another?’  Personally I think he’s lying but what if he isn’t?  You know that fight you and Evan got in?  Well somehow my name was dragged through the mud too – thanks for that – and McGonagall wrote to my father!  My _father_!  I’m seventeen!  She shouldn’t have done that!  I’m an adult… _and he’s gonna kill me_.”

Seeing that Oz wouldn’t be stopping soon, Severus held up a hand.  “Listen to me, Oz.”  Oz quieted and turned his hazel eyes to his friend.  “Your father is too old for another son.  He’s not going to risk it.  You’ll do fine:  we both know you want something, you take it.  And do you think the Dark Lord will be okay with him not sponsoring you?  I’m sure he’d just it himself.  And if – yes, yes, _when_ I’m sorry – he comes to beat you, defend yourself if you’re so adult.”

Oz breathed a terrified laugh.  “Defend myself?  He would kill me!”

Severus gazed at Oz skeptically.  “You don’t really think that?”

“I think I know him better than you!”  Oz squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep, shuddering breath.  “Once when I was six I was making fun of Amelia because she couldn’t yet read and father hexed me!  He hexed me.  And now when I’m making the name look bad?  I’m dead.”

Severus took a moment to think and then responded, “Well, wouldn’t it look bad for the family if he killed you?”

Oz’s lips cracked into a strained smile.  “You know,” he said hesitantly, “you’re right.”  Laughing a little, he allowed his shoulders to relax.  “I guess it would look pretty bad.”

“… Is that what is really upsetting you?”

Oz laughed for real this time.  “I am so easy to read!”  He squeezed his hands together.  “No, no, it’s - it’s not.”  He paused, flipped his fringe back.  “Do you think I’ll be any good?”

“Sure,” replied Severus instantaneously. “I know you’ll be.”

“Really?”  Oz smiled.  “You really think so?”

Nodding, Severus laid down.  “You wouldn’t even be considered if you wouldn’t be.  And like I said, you get what you want.  It’s admirable.”

“You think I’ve admirable qualities?  Wow, Severus, you’re a great friend, y’know that?”  Oz lay upon his bed and stretched out.

For a while the two boys enjoyed the silence.  Then, with a deep breath, Oz broke it.

“It’s going to be great, isn’t it?”

Severus took a moment to think.  “I don’t doubt it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You should look up what 'Sienkiewicz' means and laugh with me.


	4. Keeping Cover

“I cannot believe this,” Sirius grumbled.  He was using his wand to blast the underbrush away as he, Severus Snape and Oz Avery stumbled through the Forbidden Forest on yet another detention.  “Is Filch looking to find me dead?”

Oz rolled his eyes.  “Probably,” he snapped, “considering all the problems you cause him.”

Sirius whipped around to glare.  “Like you don’t?”

“What do we do?” Oz said incredulously.  “It’s not us that cause trouble around the school.”

“Macdonald was crying yesterday, proper terrified you gits are planning to _kill_ her,” Sirius shot back.

Oz flipped back his fringe.  “So?  I can’t control the thoughts and feelings of mudbloods.”

“Don’t call her that!” Sirius snarled, hurtling forward to stand in Oz’s face.

Severus whipped his arm out to keep the two separate.  “Stay back, Black.  You don’t want to get in more trouble.”  At Sirius’s indignant snort, Severus pushed Oz back.  “I mean it, Black.  Don’t bother us because I will call Hagrid over here.  I don’t care.”

“Don’t care about much, do you Snape?” hissed Sirius as he turned around to continue making headway through the trees.

The three teenagers walked in silence for a long while, Sirius being the only one keeping his eyes peeled.  They were supposed to be on the lookout for any activity that would signify humans were living or otherwise interacting longtime within the forest.  They had not been informed of who they were to be looking for, but Sirius had a good guess.  And if he was being honest with himself, being paired with two wannabe Death Eaters probably did good to insure his safety in case they did run into any troublemakers.

“How much longer?” Oz grumbled, glancing up to look through the treetops to the night sky.  “I’m tired!”

“Can’t be much,” replied Severus before Sirius could.  “It’s been at least 30 minutes since Black last opened his mouth and we were walking for about another 30 before he decided to start trouble.”

“Okay but it will then take at least an hour to walk back and I’m tired _now_ not an hour from now,” said Oz, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his cloak.

Severus nodded.  “I understand.  My feet are starting to hurt.”

Sirius frowned and turned back, trying his best to look hurt.  “Oh, no.”  He paused.  “Should I send up some sparks and say the trouble is you two babies?”

“The trouble is going to be _you_ if you don’t quiet down!” Severus snapped, pulling out his wand.

“ _Ohhh_!”  Sirius sneered, holding up his hands.  “I’m so scared!”

Oz narrowed his eyes.  “You ought to be.  Severus is a better wizard than you, any day.”

Sirius snorted.  “And I’m Bertha Jorkins!”

“Not as clever as her,” Oz replied icily, “but about as chatty.”

“Oh, please, Avery don’t you try that with me,” growled Sirius, pointing his wand at the other boy.  “We all know what you said to the Transfiguration examiner last year.”

Oz didn’t say anything, just flipped back his fringe.

“Hey,” said Severus suddenly, startling.  “Can you hear that?”

“Hear wh -- ?”

Severus waved his free arm frantically and Oz stopped talking.  All three boys strained to hear past the regular animal and wind noises in the forest.  Then, suddenly, came the sound of a cigarette being lit.  “Oh no,” whispered Severus, horrified.

A silky voice came from the darkness, not too far from their east.  “Did you hear anything?”

Silence followed.  Sirius felt his blood run cold.  He palmed his wand, mind frantically running through every offensive and defensive spell he had ever learned.  Severus and Oz exchanged panic-stricken looks that seemed to say ‘do something!’.

“Nah,” came an oddly accented voice.  “Probably just the trees settling.”

The first man snorted.  “The trees settling?  Are you completely stupid?”

“Are you?  We’re supposed to be working but all you’ve been doing is taking the piss about people.”  His accent sounded like a mix of Russian and Brummie.

Sirius was thinking hard.  He recognised these voices, but from where?

“No, that’s a lie, thanks,” the other man drawled.  “It’s you that hasn’t been doing a damn thing.”

As realisation dawned on Sirius’s face, Severus tripped forward and smacked into a tree, sending a wave of noise through the forest.  Oz shrieked in surprise and at the same time two loud pops characteristic of Apparition sounded.

“Are you okay?”  Oz asked frantically, bending down to help Severus to his feet.  “You just fell to the ground!”  Severus shot Oz a significant look and boy said slowly, “ _Ohh_.”

“I know who they were,” said Sirius, voice stronger than him.  “Rookwood and Dolohov.  That’s who they were.”

“Augustus Rookwood?” said Severus, laughing.  “You think Augustus Rookwood is a Death Eater?  Have you gone completely mad?”

Sirius bristled.  “Friends with Malfoy.”

“So?  Is Narcissa Malfoy a Death Eater?  Is Valerie Travers?  That is a huge assumption to level onto someone.”  Severus paused, glaring steadily.  “One, I think, you would need real evidence to back up.”

“Really,” added Oz, angling his shoulder and looking out at Sirius under his half-lidded eyes.  “Accusing someone of his caliber.  Wow.”

Sirius growled, feeling trapped and violated.  “I know what you did, Snape.”

Both boys shrugged, faces blank.

“I don’t have time for this,” snapped Sirius.  He charged in the direction the voices came from and stumbled into a clearing.  It was ten by ten and hooded by branches with no tree trunks, keeping it completely hidden from anyone flying over.  “Look at this,” he said.  “Look at this.”

From behind Oz sent a shot of green sparks into the air.  It was only seconds later that Hagrid, making enough noise to alert 100 Death Eaters, came crashing into the clearing, causing Severus to fall to the ground for real.  Oz himself barely got out of the way.  “What is it?” he was saying, holding up his lantern.  “What have we got?”

Oz helped up Severus again.  Sirius might have laughed, if he could have felt his legs.

“There were two here, we heard them talking but they left after Snape made a bunch of noise,” Sirius explained, shooting Severus a dark look.

“Is that true?” asked Hagrid, looking to the two Slytherins hovering on the edge.

“More or less,” said Oz, shrugging.

Hagrid began to nod furiously, little eyes sweeping across the empty clearing.  “Okay, okay…”

“Can we go now?” asked Severus, glancing at his watch.  “It’s two.  We have class tomorrow.”

Sirius really liked that idea.  He wanted to get to bed, but also tell James about what they have found.

“Yeah,” said Hagrid.  “Let’s get back to Hogwarts.”

“Thank Merlin,” Oz griped, breathing a pent up breath.  “Thank all the little gods.”

He and Severus took off and almost immediately hunched together, talking about something.

That next morning, James was the one who spotted them coming down from the Owlery, looking satisfied and heavy-eyed.


	5. Herbology

“Have you thought about what you’re saying?” Evan Rosier sneered, stuffing his wand into his robes.

Severus Snape didn’t respond.  He watched the fallen leaves be blown across the familiar path to the greenhouses, enjoying the crunching noise beneath his feet as he crossed the dirt and rocks.  His black eyes flitted up and away from his friend’s angry stare, settling on the steel gray sky.  It had been a long time since it had last rained.

“Well?” prompted Evan, only seconds later.  “Oz, have _you_ given what Severus has said any thought?  Have _you_ been able to wrap your mind around what he said?  Perhaps you are of a higher order; I cannot sort it out.”

Oz Avery shrugged, superbly uncomfortable.  “You both,” he began uncertainly, pushing his hair away to scratch at his neck, “have been good friends for a while.  Don’t know why you’ve got to get so mad, I really don’t.”

“So I am to blame?” Evan shrieked, skidding to a stop.  He whipped out his wand.

“No, no,” Boris Wilkes said quickly, grabbing Evan’s right hand and stopping anything he might do with his wand.  “What he is saying, darling, is that two good friends should not get so mad at each other.”

Oz nodded frantically, backing up and looking wildly at Steven Mulciber for support.  “Yeah, yeah.  That’s what I meant.”  He eyed Evan’s wand and then his eyes darted to Boris’s calm face.  “Yeah.  Yeah.  Let’s all just calm down.”

“I am calm!” Evan snarled, retching away from Boris.  “ _I am calm_!”

“If I may speak,” said Steven, a smirk playing at his thin lips.  “Evan, _dear_ , I think you are skirting the line of Bellatrix Lestrange levels of pureblood mania. And that is not a good thing.”

Here Oz narrowed his eyes.  “So what?  Are we supposed to welcome Muggles into the fold, too?”

“No,” Steven snapped.  “What I mean is there is a point that is too far.  Evan, you are near that point.  Severus said that some Muggleborns might be good with a wand.  Where is the lie?  Should we live in ignorance?  Should we allow our opponents to grow in knowledge while we refuse to look at them, lest we be tainted?  We have no hope of victory if we do not acknowledge their strengths.”

Evan threw up his arms.  “Fine, okay.  Some Mudbloods can throw a spell.  Fine.”  He rounded on Severus.  “Are you happy now?”

Severus glared at him.  “No, I’m not.   I’m just annoyed.  What is wrong with you?”

“What is wrong with me?” Evan laughed.  “Me?”  He looked at Boris.  “Did you hear that, love?  He wants to know what’s wrong with _me_!”

Boris held Evan still but looked viciously at Severus.  “I think,” he said icily, “that we should all shut up and make up.”

“If that’s what you want,” said Evan, who seemed to have been placated but a gentler touch from his boyfriend.  “I’ll drop it.  I do not like being insulted, that is all.”

Oz smiled.  “Okay then!  I’m glad that’s over.”

Evan scowled and looked like he wanted to retort but Boris took his hand and the lot of them set of to Herbology.

Once inside the greenhouse, Professor Sprout set them to collecting the fangs from several very angry and active Fanged Geranium’s, with the stern warning that they would most likely be showing up on their OWLs.

“Pair up with me?” Oz asked Severus with a smile.  He could see the boys’ eyes resting on Lily Evans and was trying to avert another tragedy. 

“What about Steven?” said Severus vaguely as Lily caught his eye and smiled.

Oz pulled Severus away and shot Lily a filthy look.  “He can pair up with Fatima Shafiq.  He’s had eyes for her for ages and she’s got no partner, see?”

“Okay then,” relented Severus, trying to mask his disappointment.  He pulled on his shoddy pair of dragon skin gloves with a grimace.  “I’m ready when you are.”

When Oz didn’t respond, Severus peeked at him through the corner of his eye.  Oz was staring at their pot, green in the face.  “I….,” he said, catching Severus’s stare.  “I’m so ready.”

At that moment Evan shrieked and jumped backwards, a long gash in his one his fingers bleeding freely.  “Serves him right,” grumbled Severus as he went in.

“I’m really sorry about the hard time he was giving you.  You didn’t do anything to deserve it.”  Oz took hold of the plants jaws and pulled them wide open, cringing in fear.

Severus shook his head and tried to pry one of the fangs free.  It didn’t seem keen on coming loose.  “It’s okay.”

“I think he was just trying to look out for you,” Oz said, treading carefully.  “With you talking about Muggleborns that way and being so close with one, I mean.  I think he’s just trying to look out for you.”

This seemed to give Severus the strength he needed to pry the fang free.  He threw it angrily into the pot.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Well, that Gryffindor….”

Severus glared at him.  “I _don’t_ think Muggleborns are okay!”  He tore out two more fangs as Evan returned to tending his and Boris’s Gernanium, hand mended and gloves torn.

“I believe you!  It’s just you say things like that and some people think things.  Just be careful is all I’m saying.”  Oz adjusted his arms and tried to strangle the plant.

“I shouldn’t have to change the way I speak and think just because others may misinterpret it.”  He yanked out four more fangs and then demanded to switch places.  Once his hands were secure around the things mouth, he sighed deeply.

Oz wrapped one whole hand around a fang and pulled as hard as he could.  It did not budge.  “I know you shouldn’t,” he said.  “But that’s just how it is, I think.”  He looked around desperately.  “How did you do it?”

“You just have to pull really hard.”  Severus looked at Oz through his fringe, which had fallen in sweaty clumps across his face.  “Real hard.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” cried Oz and was able to pull one free.  “Whoa, look!” he said happily as the plant writhed in pain.  “I got one!”  He looked cruelly at the plant.  “Who’s bad now, huh?  Me!”

Severus tried to keep his expression neutral.  “Okay, okay.  That’s great.  Now please calm down.”

“Why should I?” asked Oz, jubilant.  “I did it!”

Rolling his eyes, Severus began to roll his left thumb absentmindedly over the plants mouth.  “Everyone is doing it.  The point is to do it.”

“Well,” said Oz, feigning stiffness and reaching in for another, “I’ve never been good at Herbology, have I?  Only taking it to NEWT if I get a good enough mark and Father makes me.”  He tore it out, grinned and added it to the pot.  “You know,” he said leisurely, “this really isn’t too hard.”  Without difficulty he tore three more teeth from the gums.

Then it dawned on Severus that he didn’t have to do a job to keep the Gernamium still.  It had stopped moving all the way and appeared to be sleeping.  “Look!” he cried.  “It’s calmed down!”

“Whoa!” responded Oz excitedly.  “It has.  How did you do it?”

At this commotion Professor Sprout wandered over, pushing her hair back behind her ears.  “What is this we have here?” she asked, soundly highly pleased.

“It stopped fighting us and the fangs just come right out!” Oz said, demonstrating just how easily they did by grabbed three in one hand and pulling them free.  He held them up, almost as if they were an extremely prestigious trophy and not a common potions ingredient.

“You have indeed!” she replied.  “Ten points to Slytherin.”

Oz and Severus exchanged stunned, gleeful glances.  They were more used to losing points then gaining them.

Professor Sprout got the attention of the class in a few moments and then spoke to them in a loud voice.  “Snape and Avery here have both managed to be the first ones to tame their Gernaimum.  If you’ll notice, it has fallen into a deep sleep and will not reawaken for several minutes.  When it does so the fangs become very lose and easy to pry out of its gums.  Now, can either of you boys tell me just how one calms a Fanged Geranium?”

“Uh,” said Oz, looking to Severus for help.

It took him a moment to realize what he had done.  “I was stroking it,” he replied, trying not to sneer at the angry expression on Sirius Blacks face.  His face was splotched with pink and his hair was stuck to his face in sweaty clumps.  From over the boys shoulder glared James Potter, looking much the same and none too pleased to see Severus beat him at anything.

“That’s quite right,” said Professor Sprout, patting Severus on the shoulder.  He cringed.  “Now, all of switch places with your partner and all of you give your Gernamims a few nice strokes.”

“I know something I’d like to give a nice stroke,” Steven muttered, glaring at the plant.  Fatima, looking amused despite herself, giggled.

Oz and Severus both rolled their eyes and switched places as instructed.  Professor Sprout went to harass a Hufflepuff, Greta Catchlove, who was chatting more than working.

The lesson ended not much later, with Professor Sprout assigning the class a 15 inch essay on the ins and outs of Fanged Geraniums.

As they retreated back up the castle, Evan took to complaining.  He was holding his curls up and away from his neck, which was shining with sweat.  “I hate this school.  Why most we students be put to slave work, gathering ingredients for Slughorn’s stores?  Why must I spend an hour defending my life just to save Dumbledore a galleon?”

“Hey, Evan,” said Severus.  “Shut up.”

Evan shot Severus a nasty look as he continued to dab at his neck.  “Mudblood lover.”

“Excuse me?” Severus snarled.

Narrowing his eyes, Evan responded, “You heard me.  I see you talking to that Gryffindor.  Blah, blah, blah.  Why would you talk to a mudblood if you didn’t love them?”

“What’s it matter who I talk to?” Severus said, walking faster to get away.  “Leave me alone.”

Steven took a deep breath.  “Why are we fighting?”

“We’re not,” Boris replied, taking ahold of Evan’s free hand.  “It’s a war.  Tensions are high.”

“Yeah!” Evan shouted at Severus.  “We are still friends, even if you love mudbloods!”

Severus didn’t reply.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greta Catchlove was an actual witch from the series. She was born in 1960 and wrote 'Charm Your Own Cheese'.


	6. No Frankie Avalon

“Did you hear?” called Evan excitedly as he slide into the common room, a section from the _Prophet_ clutched in one hand.  “Has anyone heard?”

At the barrage of blank stares that greeted him Evan sighed, exacerbated, and shook the paper in his hand.  “Why do none of you check the news?  We’re at war!”

From the back came the voice of Cadmus Flint:  “All’s I care about is if any of my family’s died and if that happened I’d get an owl saying so.”

“Yeah,” said Arlie Higgs, nodding.  “Yeah, I really don’t want to be worried with it all.”

Evan sighed again.  “How can none of you care?  How can you be so apathetic?”  By the end of his short speech his voice had gone shrill and his checks with tinged pink.  “How can you not care?  Do you have any idea what is written here?”

“Just tell us,” snapped Rabastan Lestrange.  “If you’re so keen on it.”

“No,” said Evan, narrowing his eyes.  “Not everyone here is trustworthy and not everyone here _cares_.  I’ll tell my friends and that’s it.”  He paused.  “The news is so big I’m sure it’ll be all over the school.”

Severus rolled his eyes.  “If it’s going to be all over, then why not tell us?  It’s no secret, then.”

“Because,” Evan snarled.  “What if some little mudblood hears it and thinks something they ought not?”  His gaze leveled on a Muggleborn second year, who squealed, afraid.

“All right, okay,” said Severus, holding up his hands.  “Do as you wish.”

Evan’s face light up and he dashed over to Rabastan and gestured for his friends to join him.  Valerie Travers got up from his coveted seat by the fire, Walden Macnair lumbered over, Regulus came to perch on the arm of the couch and the whole lot of fifth year boys huddled in.   “Look,” he whispered excitedly, pointing.  “Look!”

The excerpt he was holding was only a short article.  It was topped with a picture of a tree, with Aurors and other Ministry staff milling about it.  The title, _Attack Fuels Speculation About Mounting Death Eater Activity,_ was about half as long as the article itself.  

“Fourteen muggles?” breathed Oz, squeezing his hands together in an effort to contain himself.  “They found fourteen dead muggles?”

“Hanging in the tree,” whispered Boris, blown away.  “That’s brilliant.”

“But there was no Mark cast?” said Severus skeptically.  “They didn’t cast the Mark.”

Stevan scowled at him.  “So?  It was with a bunch of muggles and Father says they’re trying to keep things a little hush for now.  Let some people claim that nothing is happening.”

“Things are clearly happening,” said Regulus, who was eyeing the clipping for his collection.

“Well, yes,” replied Stevan, “but it’s not so obvious and blatant that you are forced to believe it.  Not yet, anyway.”

“But the Mark,” argued Severus.  “You can’t put something like that over someone’s house and not clearly say there is war.  Everyone knows what is going on.  Any day now they’ll attack some public place but until then it’s not like it’s a big secret.  People are being pulled out of school.  The Ministry is on alert.”

Evan handed the clipping to Regulus, who smiled thankfully.  “Shut up about the Mark, Severus.  They’ve got their reasons.  Having to bring out the Obliviators makes people mad.  They want public opinion on their side.”

“And killing people does that?” said Walden doubtingly.

Rolling his eyes, Oz responded, “No, but no one likes Muggles anyway and these people that are dying, well, so what?  Better them then me.  And maybe they have a point.  That’s what people say.”

“You know that?” said Walden, “you know that.”

“Yes,” said Oz confidently.  “Father hears a lot of things, you know.  He passes them to me.”

Valerie nodded.  “It’s true.  A lot of people aren’t too keen on Muggles and their growing influence.  If it’s a choice between the two, some people are willing to overlook or disregard somethings.”

“There was a poll,” Regulus said, “that Father told me about.  They never published it in the _Prophet_ because of what the results were.  It said that 68% of people felt like the Muggle influence was growing too strong and 43% felt like maybe the Death Eaters had a bit of a point about Muggles.  Further, 37% said that they really didn’t completely trust Mudbloods.”

Rabastan frowned.  “Who did they poll?”

“It was anonymous, obviously.  Ministry workers, mostly, I think.”  Regulus replied.  “Probably wasn’t too far off from the general conscious, honest.”

Walden whistled.  “All right!”

“I’d like to see a poll taken now!  After all those Muggles are dead!”  Evan said cheerfully.

Shaking his head, Severus said, “They’re going to keep on with this slaughter and soon the only people supporting them will be labeled as subversive.”

Evan’s eyes flashed back to the second year.  “You’re right.”  He let the grin slip from his face.  “It’s probably a good idea to tone it down.”


	7. Love Affair

Professor Flitwick pointed his wand at Lucius Malfoy and asked, “What is the incantation for the water-making spell?”

“Aguamenti,” Lucius replied easily.

It was the first day back from the summer break and Flitwick appeared to be giving his seventh years a review of the previous material.

“Excellent!” Flitwick replied.  “Five points to Slytherin.”

Lucius sent a smile to Augustus Rookwood, who was seated next to him.  “How was that?”

“Basic,” Augustus drawled, adjusting the scarf around his neck.  “Next thing you know he’s going to have us using verbal spells.”

Antonin Dolohov laughed.  “Next thing you know he’s going to be asking what the wand-lighting charm does.”

Flickwick spun away from the question he was asking Frank Longbottom and pointed his wand at Antonin so fast that the boy startled in his seat.  “Mr Dolohov!  What _does_ the wand-lighting charm do?”

Lucius and Augustus shot Antonin amused looks while the other boy reddened under the stares of his classmates.  “It makes a light come out the tip of your wand.”

“And how do you do it?” Flitwick pressed, flicking his wand.

Antonin held up his wand and said, “Lumos.”  A bright light appeared on the tip of his wand, illuminating the back of Edwin McKinnon’s head.

Flitwick, unimpressed, asked, “And the counter-charm?”

“Nox,” Antonin replied and the light on his wand went out.

With a quick nod, Flitwick directed his attention back to Frank.  The Gryffindor was still wearing the sour expression from the night previous, when Lucius had passed by his compartment on the train, wearing the Head Boy badge that he, Frank, had believed to be rightfully his.

“First year did not seem so easy when we were living it,” Lucius said surreptitiously. 

Augustus grinned ruefully.  “Your first year was hell.”

Flicking back his hair, Lucius nodded.  “Look how far I’ve come!”  He could remember how he was then and knew that the person he was was then wouldn’t even recognise the man he was now.

Just then the door to the classroom flew open and two Gryffindors came running in.  “Sorry!  The stairs moved!  And we were lost and – Professor McGonagall, sorry!”  Sirius Black and James Potter needed only a few seconds to realise that they were not in Professor McGonagall’s second year Transfiguration class.  Lucius turned away and smugly lifted an eyebrow, looking pointedly at Sirius. 

“Oh, no,” James muttered, left hand flailing and finally latching on to Sirius’s upper arm.  “We are _not_ where we’re supposed to be.”

Flitwick hopped down from his pile of books and moved swiftly to the two boys, whose faces were as red as their scarfs.  “You will find,” he said, not unkindly, “that the Transfiguration class has moved.  You will want to go down one more floor.”

“That’s what you’ve got to work with?” Antonin asked Frank, laughing.  “Your legacy?”

Frank pulled out his wand and pointed it at Antonin.  “Shut it, Dolohov.  I’ve seen the stock of Slytherins you lot have to deal with.”

“What’s wrong with our Slytherins?” Lucius asked indignantly, ignoring Augustus, who was trying to placate him.

Frank snorted.  “Regulus Black?  Aren’t a Rosier and an Avery in your second year?”

“So what you’re saying is that you are jealous of our wealth and talent?” Lucius replied.  “And Regulus is the younger brother of that genius.”  He gestured to Sirius, who was still speaking with Flitwick.

“Least as a Gryffindor he is trying to better himself!” A Hufflepuff, Alice Fortescue, exclaimed.

Frank shot out a hand to stop Alice.  “I’ve got this under control!”

“I’m Head Girl!  I’m trying to stop this before Flitwick notices!” she said, angry.

Augustus smiled lazily and drawled, “I think he already has.”

Indeed, Flitwick had sent the two lost Gryffindors on there way here and was watching the commotion from the back of the room.

Frank looked like he wanted to say something but he just pocketed his wand and shifted in his seat to properly face the board.  Alice exhaled and shot the three Slytherins a nasty look.

“After class, you five.”  With that, Flitwick went back to going over the spells from the previous year.

By the time class had ended, Lucius and Augustus had talked quietly on just _why_ Augustus was counted in the five and Frank had taken a good ten inches of notes on things he realised too late that he already had notes for.  The bell rang and everyone jostled out of class, everyone except Frank, Alice and the three Slytherins.

They found themselves at his desk, Alice and Frank hovering near each other and Lucius trying to keep as much distance between himself and them as possible.

Instead of the lecture they were expecting, Flitwick said softly, “I don’t think any of you are ignorant.”

“No, I don’t think so either,” Frank said.  “And I just was to apologise for my behaviour, Professor.”

Flitwick waved his hands.  “You know what is happening.  The war that is brewing.”

This caught their attention.  Alice took Frank’s hand while Frank looked quickly to the Slytherins, who had turned in on themselves.

“I ask only that you move past these House rivalries and see what is occurring and choose a side.  Hopefully, it will be the right one.  Please do not use your talents to harm others.”

Lucius found himself rubbing at the scars on his wrist.  When the time came to choose a side, as he knew it would, there was no doubt in his mind that he and Frank would be on opposite ends.  But Augustus?  He was a half-blood; he didn’t even believe in pureblood supremacy.

“Go on, then, I’m sure Professor Slughorn will want to know where you’ve been.  No need for him to think the Head Boy and Girl have started trouble on the first day back.”  He hopped off his books and moved to the door to welcome in the crowd of fourth years.

“Yes, Professor,” Alice whispered.  She had a serious look about her.

The tides were turning and if Flitwick just wanted to deliver a gentle message now, who was to know what he would be doing for students in the future.


	8. Depression

Regulus had not been feeling well recently.  That was what Evan had gone to explain to Professor Slughorn when Regulus had proclaimed that he did not have the energy to go to class, let alone get out of bed to go to breakfast.  He was not even hungry.  It had taken Regulus over two hours of lying in bed and one hour of sitting around dressing himself before he finally found the will power to drag himself out of the dungeons and into the fresh spring air.  Right now, if he was being productive and not lazy, he would be in Charms.  He glanced up at the window to his Charms class, mindful that Flitwick could glance down and see him and want to know why he was not in bed if he was feeling so unwell.

Pulling his hood down lower, Regulus wandered around near the edge of the forest.  It was a lovely day and the few students lucky enough to not be in class were hanging around outside, laughing, talking, doing school work and enjoying the sun.  No one was near the forest and aside from the breeze on the trees behind him, there was no noise.  Regulus settled down in the shade of one of the big trees, feeling as if his legs could no longer support him.

It had been a while since he had felt like he had any energy.  It had started last summer.  A regular lunch among the family had turned into a circus and Sirius had left the family – left him.  Regulus had always said that he did not care whether Sirius lived or died but he had been finding it hard to go without his big brother.

Sirius did not even want anything to do with him anymore.  He did not look his way at meals or in the halls and when he and Potter had collided into each other during a Qudditch match, Sirius had run to see if Potter was okay and he not even glanced his way.  It stung.  Regulus had, despite everything, loved his big brother.

Now he had nothing but burdens from his family and friends.

Part of him just wanted to disappear, to leave all of his obligations behind.  But that was not possible.  There was a family to lead and a world to purify.

Regulus did not know how long he had been sitting under the tree’s shade when he noticed a big, black dog making its way over to him.  He had seen the dog around before.  Playing in piles of leaves, running through the trees around the forests edge, prowling around at night.  It had barked at Filch’s cat once and sent it running, which had endeared the dog to Regulus.

The dog was heading straight for him and looked friendly enough.  His tail was wagging and he looked like he was smiling.  Maybe it was true, what he had heard about dogs.  Perhaps they really could sense when you were feeling down.

Once the dog was close enough to pet Regulus reached out one pale hand and scratched behind its ears.  “Hi,” he said.  “Whose dog are you?”

Giving a little bark, the dog laid his head down on Regulus’s lap.  Smiling, Regulus continued to pet the dog.  “You’re a good dog, huh?” he said, running his hand down the dogs back.  Mother had never let him have a dog.  They had a cat when he was young, but she was mean and scratched his hand when he tried to pet her.

Having the dog in his lap brought up his mood.  “Wish I could make you my dog,” he continued, “since you seem so nice.”

For a while the dog stayed by his side. When people started piling out of Herbology and heading inside the dog stood up and gave a little bark at him before running away toward the school.  It was lunchtime and he seemed to want to be fed.  Halfway toward the school the dog turned around and barked again.

Regulus stood up, mindful that he should get something to eat.  Once he was up the dog was turning around and in no time was running up the steps and was inside the school.

The dog did not look back at him and did not come to see him again.  By his last year at school, he realized one day that he had not seen the dog in a while.  Whoever he belonged to must have moved on.  That was fine.  Regulus was moving on too.


	9. Metallic

Rabastan placed one arm on the wall and leaned over, gagging into his sleeve.  The tangy smell of fresh blood was strong and he could hear the _slosh_ of the blood behind him as Bellatrix kicked her boots through it.

The little bedroom that the two had been hiding in had probably not been built as a bedroom – a study or another smaller room had been its original purpose, surely.  The two bodies were cut open haphazardly and perhaps Rabastan was stronger than he thought because the sight of their intestines lying weak and vulnerable like cooked spaghetti outside their bodies had not done him in.  The smell – the smell was so strong.

Bellatrix gave a little laugh and kicked, sending a short wave of blood against the wall that was already dirty with desperate hand prints.  The wands of the two Order members were on the floor somewhere, just visible peeking out from the pool of blood they laid within.

“You okay?” she asked, resting her hands on her hips and bending over the body of the woman.  She appeared to be inspecting her insides – or, whatever was still inside her.

Nodding, Rabastan stood up, keeping his right arm over his nose.  “The smell,” he said, waving his other arm vaguely around the room.

She turned her head and gave him a small smile.  “Oh, yes,” she trilled, “it takes some getting used to.  Of course,” she continued, vaguely, “I’ve had a few years experience with blood before I was in the service of the Dark Lord.”

Rabastan pulled a face.  This was not going well for his first real mission.  He had his left arm broken by a well-placed hex but Bellatrix had set it for him and now he could not even stay stable.  But they were dead.

“It’s your first time,” she noted.  “How about you put the Mark up?  Let’s go out and see it.”  Bellatrix stood up swiftly and was blasting away the damaged door before Rabastan had registered what she had said.

Relishing the chance to get away from the overwhelming odor, Rabastan followed after her.  The house was quiet except for the wet sound of their footsteps, heels echoing off the high ceilings.  The place had been tidy, save for the living room which still bore evidence of the baby shower that had taken place earlier in the day.  Bellatrix had quipped that they were lucky they had not dropped in during it.  Rabastan had agreed and now that he had done the deed, was even more grateful for the target and his wife being the only ones present.

Bellatrix strode proudly out the heavy oaken doors into the wet night.  It had rained earlier in the day and the hot summer air made the night an unappealing place now.  “You know how to do it,” she smiled, twirling her wand through her fingers.  It would not be long until they were in-laws.  No wonder the Dark Lord had paired them together – not to mention that Bellatrix was highly skilled and incredibly ruthless, more than capable of taking the two low level threats out alone if necessary.

Rabastan thrust his wand into the sky with more force than necessary and shouted, “Morsmordre!”  A brilliant emerald snake formed in the sky above the stately home.  The pair looked at each other with a grin and Apparated off instantly, not wanting to get in a fight with anyone that might spot the symbol.

They landed easily in the foyer of whatever manor home they were using as Headquarters and Bellatrix immediately strode off to find the Dark Lord.  Rabastan followed along.  He could feel every separate piece of hair, his whole scalp tingling.  His hands were shaking madly at his side and he could hardly get them to his chest, which felt like it was going to burst from the pressure of his madly beating heart.  He had killed them.  It felt good.


End file.
